


Godawful Accent

by Aithilin



Series: Phone Calls with Victor [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Spy Victor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:49:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock should probably be paid for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Godawful Accent

"Where are you this time?"

He hadn’t bothered to excuse himself when he saw who was calling— just waved Lestrade off and started walking away. The case wasn’t far from Baker Street; an afternoon’s walk if he wanted.

"Just out and about." Victor said, connection clear and strong— enough to hear the hint of busy life in the background. "Finished a meeting and thought I’d call."

"No hint of static or a corrupted connection, so some place civilized." Sherlock smiled and headed for the main roads, even as he knew that Lestrade would hound him for case work later. It had only been a theft gone wrong. "You wouldn’t subject yourself to France unnecessarily."

"What’s wrong with France, bee?"

"Strange food."

"Of course." He could hear the smile in Victor’s voice. "Where am I, Will?"

"Spain."

"Spain?"

He won’t mention that he could hear the buzz of conversation around Victor. Spanish with no accent. “In a little restaurant. Overlooking water, because you like those sorts of things. Probably with some ungodly wide-brimmed hat on.”

"Not working on my tan?"

"You’re not on leave, yet. You’re using this phone call to work." Sherlock smiled, city blocks passing by unnoticed as he let himself get caught up in the phone call. His feet knew the way home. "What do I need to do? Make you blush?"

Victor adopted an American drawl— Louisiana accent, a touch louder than his usual tone. The mark must be close. “Aw, darlin’, you know you can’t get me blushin’.”

"That accent is hideous, Victor."

"You wound me, honeybee."

"If you ever speak like that when we’re together—”

"C’mon, darlin’. You always said you won’t kick me outta bed."

"Stop."

"Not a chance." He could hear movement, feedback from another device, Victor’s chatter fading as the noise from the cafe cleared. He could make out two new voices— numbers and talk— a deal. Without Victor talking at him, Sherlock committed it all to memory, until the resounding click of another device could be heard and Victor returned. Properly returned, no accent and moving.

"Get all that, bee?"

"Was I meant to?"

"It would make my job easier."

"I expect payment, Victor. I'm sure this is in breach of your contracts."

"If they let me keep my head, I’ll make sure you’re rewarded."

"I’ll text you the details. You were recording, anyway."

"Text me ages and accents. I need confirmations to get this to stick."

Sherlock smiled, nearly home now. “When do you come back?”

"Two weeks, Will. Two weeks."


End file.
